Flowers for Harley
by Sygmanthias
Summary: A series of one-shots, each chapter relating to a different flower. Harley/Joker
1. Rose

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to DC or its characters.

Rose

For some reason, Harley never really liked roses that much.

Maybe it was because they were such a cliché, done over and over again for holidays like Valentine's Day. She had plenty of boyfriends over the years whom she knew would always get her a dozen roses and the standard box of chocolates for that day, as if that were the perfect gift. It was nice, she thought, and she would smile and gush over the gifts, but inside she would squirm thinking about exactly how long the guy had thought about what to get her before settling on the "classics." Sometimes she wondered if they only got her the gifts for the sex they knew they would get afterward.

Although, she thought, she may have held a dislike for roses because of the undeniable fact that no matter how careful she was, she would always prick herself on one of the thorns. Harley knew she was clumsy, but she just couldn't figure out how that happened every single time. At one point she concluded that the roses were all conspiring against her, just waiting for one of her fingers to get close enough to a thorn, and then they would jerk out of her grip so that her skin made contact. The thought of crazed flowers may have, at one time, made Harley laugh at herself, but after all the time spent with Poison Ivy, she knew better than to underestimate any plant, no matter how harmless it may seem. She still remembered that time with the plant she had dubbed the "Venus Fly-Trap from Hell," and she didn't wish to relive that experience any time soon.

So when, as a present on Valentine's Day, Mistah J had given her a black eye and a couple of bruised ribs, Harley didn't say anything. She didn't cry, even though her body ached all over. She knew Red would scold her for putting up with it, and she knew somewhere, deep down, that it was wrong.

But even so, she couldn't help but think that at least her Puddin' didn't follow conventions. He would never think about getting her roses or chocolates, and even though at the end of the day she was laying in puddle of red on the floor, she was glad it had been him instead of one of those manic thorns.


	2. Forget Me Not

Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with Joker/Harley.

Forget-Me-Not

Harley knew she didn't have the best memory in the world. Back in high school, she tried mnemonic devices, rhymes, even making up songs to go along with what she was studying, but nothing ever really stuck for long.

When she first joined The Joker, it was even more important to remember things, like not asking stupid questions or not trying to crack a joke of her own. After all, that was his job. When she slipped up, which was usually often, he never hesitated in letting her know. He had his own methods of teaching her, which, she had to admit, were quite effective. After spending more time with her Puddin', Harley was able to remember more and more, though she did occasionally make a mistake, but Mistah J was always there to help her remember.

It was because of Mistah J, Harley realized, that she had actually acquired a kind of photographic memory. There were certain things, for example, that she was very good at remembering, such as the vibrant green hair which would brush gently against her cheek while his fingers closed protectively against her throat. The deep, brown eyes which seemed to contain traces of violet as he firmly but calmly told her to leave his sight. His ruby-red lips, which would leave blood-red kisses along her throat, her neck, her shoulder blades, leaving a trail that would blend in perfectly with the purple and blue bruises dotting her arms and abdomen like forget-me-nots.

It was reminders like these which helped Harley most, because whenever she doubted anything or couldn't remember exactly what was expected of her, she only had to look at them like a cheat sheet, and she knew what to do. And at the end of the day, she was glad to have such a great tutor, because she knew her Puddin' cared about her deeply. He really did.

After all, he just wanted to help her remember. And, she added to herself, he was very good at it.


	3. Clover

Disclaimer: I own nothing. DC does.

Clover

"Make a wish Mistah J!"

"What?"

"I found a four-leaf clover! You have to make a wish!" The Joker sighed and began rubbing his temples. He was much too busy and exhausted for this. For a week straight he had been creating a new plan to rid Gotham of Batman once and for all, one which involves whoopee cushions, fake vomit, and lots and lots of dynamite. It was going to be brilliant! Unfortunately, the long nights were beginning to take a toll, and Harley wasn't doing anything to help that.

"Harley, you idiot, you don't make wishes on four-leaf clovers, they give you good luck. Second, that's not a four-leaf clover, it's a sprig of parsley you found in the fridge that was never thrown out."

"But it's so green and leafy--"

"I don't care how green and leafy it is, it's still not a clover! With your logic, broccoli would be considered the luckiest vegetable in the world, and we all know how wrong that is…"

"But Mistah J, you can still make a wish!"

"On parsley?"

"Sure, why not!"

"Alright, Harley, I do have a wish."

"Ooh, Mistah J, what is it? Can ya tell me, or is that bad luck to tell someone?"

"Actually, Harley, I want you to hear it. It involves you, after all." Harley squeaked with joy that her Puddin' would think about her like that.

"Really, Puddin', about me?"

"Yes. You see, my greatest wish would be…"

"Yeah, Puddin'?" Harley waited expectantly, a smile making its way onto her lips.

"…for you to shut up."

"Ohh, Puddin', I'm so—huh?"

"Aww, Harley, you're making my wish not come true." Harley opened her mouth to speak but quickly shut it. The Joker smirked, turned around, and got back to work on his latest plan to brutally maim and humiliate Batman. Harley sat silent for a few seconds, then smiled, her eyes lighting up. Then--

"Hey Puddin', can we get some broccoli?"


	4. Lily

Disclaimer: I do not own Joker, Harley, or Wicked. I am not that lucky.

Lily

She wondered, quite frequently actually, whether anyone would mourn her when she died. Mostly she thought about this at night, after she and The Joker finished up a particularly dangerous job or had a close encounter with Batman. She never let him know, of course. She would smile and pretend that death didn't frighten her. And truthfully, it didn't. She had proved that time and time again. What bothered her was not knowing if anybody cared enough about a criminal to visit their grave.

Her mother had cut off contact with her after she had gone and freed The Joker from Arkham. She never once visited her when she was sent there herself, so she probably shouldn't expect her to visit her grave, either. She didn't really have any other family, at least none that she ever spoke to, and after she starting interning at Arkham, her list of friends had dwindled down little by little. Being certified "insane" had driven away the remaining stranglers. Before she met Mistah J, in fact, she often felt kind of lonely, cut off from everyone else.

It was during these late night thoughts that she was reminded of a song from that one musical, _Wicked_. The song right at the beginning. It was about wicked people, and she remembered one line from the song. It said that no one lays a lily on wicked people's graves. Was that it then? Was she wicked, too? She didn't think so, but she didn't think like a lot of people anymore. Maybe she'd have to stick with weeds instead of lilies.

Then she would think of Mistah J. Even if nobody else cared, he did at least. After all, she'd certainly mourn him if he ever--no…no, she would definitely go first. She wouldn't even be able to live without Mistah J, and she knew it. He knew it, too, though, and that's why she knew she would go before him. He promised her she would, anyway.

It actually made her feel better, knowing that. Because after all was said and done, she knew that he would never let her be lonely again.


	5. Sunflower

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Absolutely nothing. We must all suffer for our art.

Author's Note: Sorry I haven't updated in awhile. I promise to try and be better about that. To all my beautiful reviewers, you are deeply appreciated, and this chapter is dedicated to you.

Sunflower

Harley Quinn was used to a lot. As a matter of fact, not many people could say that they had been through all of the things that she had. Being a henchgirl of The Joker made Harley pretty much used to anything. Hell, she'd seen and been victim to The Joker's numerous attacks, had seen enough blood to put Moses' plague to shame. She had been close to death many times, had been pushed out of a window, and had tangled with the Bat on several occasions, causing more bruises than she even dared to count.

And all of this she could endure. She was simply used to it by now. It came with the territory, so to speak. And yet there was one thing she had never gotten used to, something which, for all of the joy her new life with her Puddin' brought her, she felt she could never get back. But she wanted it more than anything.

Now, glancing out of the window in her old cell at Arkham, Harley missed it even more. A dark haze clouded the sky outside, and Harley sighed. Of all the things she had to give up in her life, she never imagined that she would have to give up the shear beauty of sunlight.

It seemed foolish to say, as most would argue that the sun rises every day, just as it falls every night. But Harley knew different. Many years back, before she had moved to Gotham, she had lived in a place where it hardly ever rained, and there was very little pollution fogging up the sky. It had been beautiful. It had been safe. It had been light.

Gotham City was a different story. Even when the sun did shine, it didn't capture the same warmth, the same light that the sun she once knew did. Somehow, the sun in Gotham always seemed dull and lifeless, like it knew how broken and worn-down the city had become, and perhaps it just didn't have the energy to try and brighten it up. Batman wasn't the only creature of the night. Somehow, everyone in Gotham had become one as well.

Harley leaned her head against the hard, flat pillow on her cot, clutching her clown doll to her chest. She had to admit, though, that meeting The Joker was the best thing that could have happened to her. When she was a doctor at Arkham, she may not have been a prisoner, but she certainly wasn't free. Her life revolved around work all the time, and a mix of white coats and gray walls made it easy to forget that the sun even existed. Perhaps that was why working with The Joker had been so freeing for her.

With The Joker, all he wanted was to see the world smile with him. It was no wonder that he had stolen Harley's heart from the beginning. He made her see the sun again, and with him, she saw it every day. She saw it in his vibrant, emerald hair, like thick grass lazily swaying under the sun's rays. She saw it in his purple suit, the one she got to see once she broke him out of Arkham, that put her boring, white doctor's coat to shame. She saw it in his ruby-red smile, a red like the blood she saw daily when she was with him. Blood which flowed warmly and richly from a freshly-opened wound like sunlight streaming through an open window.

Harley sat up in her cot and stared once more out of her window. The sky was dark, and the moon was barely visible through the clouds. The Bat-Signal was creeping through the clouds, as well, a beacon of hope for ordinary citizens and a warning for criminals and rogues. Somewhere out there, Batman was probably hunting down another criminal. Perhaps she'd see them tomorrow, or possibly tonight, depending on how fast the Bat worked. Hatter and Two-Face were still out, as well as Ivy. Harley missed having Red across the hall; they had so much fun with their midnight chats, talking while everyone else was trying to sleep. Then the guards would come around and try to shut them up, but once they left, they just started right back up. Of course, sometimes Red was preoccupied, tending to whatever flower she was allowed to keep in her cell with her. It always surprised Harley that, no matter what temperature or time of the year it was, Red always managed to keep her plants alive. It just made no sense, especially when they were in Arkham where there was even less sunlight than outside. "How can a plant grow if it has no sunlight?" Harley murmured to herself.

Harley looked down at the toy in her hands, its bright, red smile illuminated against its white face. She stared at the toy some more, then looked out at the night sky. The full moon had come from behind the clouds, lighting up the sky with a pale illumination. Harley smiled and laid her head back down, tucking the doll underneath her arm. "Red really cares about her plants. She loves them all, just like if they were people…so maybe that's it." Harley eyes fluttered slightly, then closed completely. "Maybe they can grow with love."

Somewhere, farther down the corridor, in the high-security wing, someone laughed.


End file.
